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BART Ride to Oakland

BART ride

The morning windows
all streaked with gray

She takes out her yellow notepad
and begins to write—

The clouds look like sea
but beyond the golf course trees
out the left side
as they relish the still above-earth
transit
there is a pastel pastiche of dawn
all peaches, grays and blues
that looks like a painting

The juxtaposition of yellow paper
and her purple overcoat
against black and gray-uniformed commuters
strikes her —not as odd—

but as expected

No one looks up
from their eye-pods, galaxies,
or blank, shielded stares
into nothingness ——